


Not your little lap dog

by WrittenInkcompetence



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Badass Reader, Crowley's being a massive jerk, Fighting, Minor Violence, Multi, and doesn't understand feelings, at least i tried to make it as gender neutral as possible, because he's horrible at relationships, being really angry, but everything can be solved, controlling/borderline abusive behaviour, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WrittenInkcompetence/pseuds/WrittenInkcompetence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being in a relationship with the King of Hell is hard, especially when he suddenly sends two demon stalkers/bodyguards your way to ensure you don't go on hunts or do anything else he can't control. But you've had enough.<br/>Or<br/>In which Crowley has to be reminded that the reader is a badass witch</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not your little lap dog

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for marksheppardischarming's May Mayhem writing challenge on Tumblr. The prompt was “I could beat you up, you know that right?”  
> As always I hope you enjoy it and check out my Tumblr http://written-inkcompetence.tumblr.com/

Your steps echoed against the stone walls of the entrance hall to Crowley’s mansion, each of them aggressively bouncing off the smooth masonry. Your nails dug deeply into the skin of your palm but you refused to loosen your grip on the air between your fingers. It was the only thing that kept you from punching the next person who crossed your way. Demon servants leapt out of your path, the furious waves of magic randomly emitting from you sent out electrostatic energy that surpassed their meatsuits and went straight for the twisted and corrupted remains of their souls. Even the heavy doors that led to the hallway willingly swung open with just a focused pulse of magic. The power inside of you felt raw and primal and you could barely control the flickering flames of power inside your body. If your magic was a fire, your rage was adding petrol until it grew so hot it almost burned you from the inside out. But you didn’t care. You embraced the flames. Because you were fucking pissed. Ever since you discovered your natural affinity to magic and witchcraft you worked on letting your powers grow. You drained angels of their grace, demons of their spirits and spirits of their everything until no witch on earth could match you. You could have done anything, save people, doom people, your life and the lives of anyone you met had been in your hands, their fates balanced on the tip of your finger. And what did you choose to do with everything you worked for? Become the personal witch of the King of fucking Hell. It had appeared to be such a great idea. He had the connections to get you everything you needed for any spell you could think of and all the books and scrolls with ancient magic you could imagine. His charming personality captured you from the get-go until you felt yourself falling hard for him. Fast forward a few weeks and you found yourself in a relationship with him. He even was a pretty good boyfriend at least when he wasn’t being a complete and utter asshole and did things like trying to plant a tracking spell on you, ordering demons to follow you around or banning you from hunting down a poltergeist without giving you an explanation as to why. You were sick of being ordered around and treated like a child.

“Crowley!” The air itself seemed to carry your voice further than it would usually be heard. The whole mansion, every single demon and of course Crowley himself would be able to hear the barely concealed anger vibrating behind the single word. And when the last echo faded away, silence enveloped the house in a thick blanket. No footsteps of hurrying servants, no low voices of demons talking to each other while they were caught up in some mundane household chore, not even the distant sound of closing doors. Your rage made your heart beat slightly faster and the sudden silence made you overly aware of the soft drumming inside your chest. It took 30 beats until you felt the air shift behind you.

“You called?” The King of Hell was as calm and collected as always, his black suit didn’t show a single wrinkle that didn’t belong and the power he radiated was so strong even regular humans could feel it. And since you were no regular human, his strength almost seemed to sing to you. But you were powerful as well and the raging magic inside of you was spurred on by his mere presence. You inhaled before you started to put your anger into words.

“I think you owe me a few answers. For starters I’d like to know why you try to control my every move. And so clumsily at that” You flicked the ancient coin he had put a tracking spell on in his direction but it bounced off an invisible wall before it could hit him. “By the way I’d appreciate it if you sent someone over to clean the carpet in my apartment, the demons you sent to stalk me have left quite a mess when they spontaneously combusted into ashes after they tried to keep me inside.” Crowley just stuffed his hands into his suit pockets, your anger seemingly not impressing him in the slightest. There was the usual gravelly tone to his voice when he answered:

“I like to keep track of the more important people in my kingdom darling I’m sure you’ll understand that. After all I can’t let my most powerful witch run around hunting monsters. You could get yourself killed.”  
You huffed out the rest of the air in your lungs. So you were “his most powerful witch” but not able to look after yourself? But his words cut deeply for a different reason. To some degree you could probably accept that he wanted to keep you safe but even if you completely ignored that he didn’t talk to you about it, ask you what was okay with you or did anything for that matter, he didn’t want to keep you safe. He wanted to keep his personal spellcaster safe. Not his partner or lover or whatever he saw your relationship as. Not you as a person. You as a witch. And you would not be seen as just one of his pawns. If he was the king, you were the queen in this game of chess and it was about time that you reminded him how powerful you were. And that you still had a mind of your own.

You relished in the feeling of the rush of power you felt when you let your magic loose. It coursed wildly through your body and you held it there for a moment before a simple flick of your wrist released the power against Crowley. The King of Hell was thrown backwards like a doll, back smacking against the cream wall of the hallway. You spread your fingers wide, palm facing him, and pushed so that he would stay in place. For a moment Crowley’s eyes widened in surprise but then his head shot up with a low growl. His face slowly took on a reddish colour and his jaw clenched visibly when he realised that he wasn’t able to move. You could feel his body and his powers tugging on the invisible bonds that held him in place but you simple pushed harder, your calculated spell overpowering his purely intuitive attempts. That was the problem with demons. They didn’t use spells, they just had access to the stream of magic when they turned and knew how to direct it without knowing how to truly control it. With slow, measured steps you closed the space between the two of you until your noses were only inches apart.

“I could beat you up, you know that right?” Your voice was sharp and clear like harsh wind on a winter’s day. “I think sometimes you forget that I am not your little lap dog. You can’t put me on a leash, you can’t tell me what to do and you definitely can’t control me. I have chosen to be with you and I have chosen to work for you but I can just as easily choose to turn around and leave.” The restraints around Crowley tightened but he didn’t even flinch. Instead he steadily held your gaze, hazel eyes burning hot into the cold fire of your (e/c) ones. The brief flash of anger you had seen on him was now replaced with something different. He looked at you as if he tried to turn you inside out, lay all you thoughts and feelings in the open for him to read. You could feel him pushing against your mind but the walls you built to protect it didn’t crumble. His attempts to break through became more frustrated with every passing second in which neither of you said a word and the only sounds were your own huffed breaths. Then, suddenly, he stopped and switched his powers over to struggle against his bonds again. The moment you realised that his attempts to read your mind were simply a distraction he had already freed one of his arms and grabbed you by the back of your head. He wove his fingers into your hair in the blink of an eye and pulled you closer towards him until your lips collided. His smell immediately hugged you tight like a blanket, spicy cologne mixed with just a hint of sulphur and his own, unique smell. His beard scratched against you with a soft, pleasant burn while his lips were clashing with yours almost desperately. He pressed against you hungrily and for just a second you were close to losing yourself in his touch as you always did. But not this time. He had no right to kiss you as if that would be all you needed to stop being furious at him for trying to stalk and control you. He had no right to pretend that a kiss from him was all it took for you to melt into his arms and forgive everything he did. You would not be played like that. With one determined step you brought the space between the two of you that you needed to think clearly and swung your fist square against his jaw. Crowley’s head flew to the side and forcefully collided with the wall. The low sound of his jaw and skull hitting the hard surface was like victory to you. Never in your life have you learned to love anyone more than Crowley but at the same time he was so infuriatingly smug, confident and sure of himself and his charm that even you could see that he was constantly ignoring his boundaries. And now you’ve definitely had enough. The air around you became so static that you could hear the magic rustling through the room. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you asked, deliberately raising your voice for the first time. The King of Hell slowly turned his head to face you again. The magical grip you had on him was gone, vanished in the few moments his kiss had caught you off guard. A tiny droplet of blood appeared on the edge of his bottom lip where your fist has split the skin and his tongue darts forward to lick it away. For a second his eyes flashed as red as his blood and his jaw clenched and unclenched several times. If it wasn’t for a few tiny hints in his body language, you would have thought it was now you who had stepped over a boundary. But as soon as the red vanished, his pupils were revealed to be fully blown so that there as only a small ring of his hazel iris left to be seen. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and closed in on you again until your bodies were flush against each other. Something hard was prodding against your abdomen and you were pretty sure it wasn’t the phone in his pocket.

“You’re hot when you’re angry. So much power, so much passion…” he purred and flashed you his signature smirk that would usually get you weak in the knees.

“Oh shove it up your ass”, you snarled and pushed him away. Did he really think this was okay? He treated you as if he was expecting you to be so deeply under the spell of his charm and good looks that you would just throw everything in the wind because he told you that you were hot. He couldn’t be fucking serious.

“I have no idea what makes you think you can treat me this way but if you don’t pull yourself together and take me seriously for one moment I’m going to leave.” Silence. For once you left the snarky King of Hell absolutely speechless. He looked almost ridiculous with an expression so solid it could have been carved in stone. His mouth was opened a little in a silent noise of surprise, his eyes wide and unblinking  
“I…” He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to say. After a few deep breaths he finally settled on: “I’m sorry.” You cocked your eyebrow, this definitely wasn’t going to be the magical solution either and for his own sake and your relationship’s sake you really hoped he didn’t expect it to be. Crowley rubbed his fingers along his jaw in a helpless gesture, his stubble making rustling sounds against his fingertips.  
“Look… love. I’m not good with this whole relationship-stuff. I’m a demon, feelings aren’t really our forte. I didn’t do this to limit you or control you. I want to keep you safe. I need to keep you safe. Maybe I have approached it the wrong way but please, you should know that you are important to me. Not only because you are powerful but because you are you.”

You blinked, your rage slowly cooling away at the truthful tone in his voice. Every word seemed to take a little internal struggle before it could leave his lips and you had never seen him look so vulnerable with his wide eyes and helpless gestures. He definitely fucked up royally and you wouldn’t let him off the hook just like that but his words were like a bandage to the cut he had left when he implied that you were first and foremost the highest ranking witch in his kingdom and a business partner and asset. Maybe now you would be able to talk to each other like civilised people and come to a conclusion instead of punching each other’s faces in. A small smile found its way onto your face. It was definitely worth a try.


End file.
